In a Word

Open eyes and look at clock. Curse beating alarm by one hour and seventeen minutes. Realize have time to go to gym. Turn gaze to window. Observe hazy clouds. Listen for rain. Decide inclement weather is justifiable reason to skip gym. Vow to get up anyway. Turn off alarm. Fall back asleep.

Awake sixteen minutes before supposed to be at office. Throw back sheets. Check emails on phone. Check Facebook updates on phone. Check calendar on phone. Check clock. Yelp.

Pee, careful to use only three sheets of toilet paper. Smile at green effort. Brush teeth with water running at full notch entire time. Jump in shower. Adjust colder. Adjust warmer. Shampoo, condition and stand under stream until fingers prune. Lather soap. Shave under arms. Shave legs. Shave big toes just because.

Dry off and set hair in towel turban. Stand naked at sink and insert contacts. Scream in agony from microscopic lint wedged between contact and iris. Remove said contact with grace of mauling Kodiak bear. Insert again, exhale. Q-tip ears.

Put on underwear and bra. Apply seven layers of deodorant. Brush hair. Gasp at amount of hair in brush. Study hair on head. Admire recent color job. Notice gray stray. Pull out four not-gray hairs before finally snagging gray culprit. Squeal at success.

Retreat to closet. Look in tall mirror at far end. Stand sideways. Suck stomach in, let it out. Suck it in, let it out. Wonder if Heidi Klum does this. Say three positive comments about image, then rifle through collection of skirts consuming 50% of closet space. Grumble that favorite one is dirty. Pull out of laundry bag. Debate ability to casually pull off wrinkles that look like skirt was slept in. For a week. Toss back in bag. Select leopard pencil skirt, black top and cardigan.

Slip on shoes. Clasp watch. Toss phone in purse. Reach for keys in usual tray. Grab nothing. Throw handbag on dining table, start hunting. Find Cheetoh under sofa. See dust bunny the size of Rhode Island in corner by fake plant. Promise to clean apartment. This weekend. Or next weekend. Go to fridge for water. Find keys sitting atop yogurt container. Run out door.

Practically kill ninety-year-old resident while throwing stairwell door open with Superman like might. Apologize. Dash when fail to see blood. Almost kill second ninety-year-old resident throwing open exterior door. Apologize. Run for car.

Open door and step into car. Recall mid-step pencil skirt is like rope binding knees together. See life flash before eyes as narrowly avoid death by gear shift. Start car and shift to reverse. Shift to drive. Head for parking lot exit, rolling through two stop signs en route to roadway.

At first intersection apply powder. At second intersection apply bronzer. At third intersection apply blush. Pulling into parking space at office, apply more bronzer. Turn off car, grab purse and run into office. Announce “Good morning!” Assume no one notices tardy arrival.

Toss handbag under desk. Fill plastic cup from Target with water from cooler. Drain cooler of last drop. Contemplate changing 10-gallon tub. Notice water marks on wall from previous attempts. Leave for stronger coworker. Look in office fridge for yogurt. Curse forgetting it at home. While placed beneath keys. In fridge. As reminder.

Work. Shuffle files. Answer calls. Work. Deny urge to pee. Fight urge to pee. Sprint to bathroom for fear will pee self. Use thirty-seven sheets of toilet paper, justifying excessive usage on single-ply status. Flush, wash hands, glance in mirror. Realize wearing enough bronzer to resemble a carrot. Notice San Andreas-like fault imprint of sheet connecting eye to chin. Shake head. Hope rest of day goes better.